


I Keep Throwing All These Bottles (but I don't know if they ever reach you)

by charlietheepic7



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Apocalypse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Good Sibling Ben Hargreeves, Good Sibling Klaus Hargreeves, Message in a bottle, Mutual Pining, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Reginald Hargreeves has a Heart (Somewhere), Sibling Bonding, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlietheepic7/pseuds/charlietheepic7
Summary: In a desperate attempt to encourage Number Five to return from the future, Vanya writes novels in hope that they reach him.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 81
Kudos: 875





	1. Chapter 1

Vanya lost her safe space when Five ran out the door six weeks ago.

Usually, they would hang out together in the music room, one of the few places both knew Reginald Hargreeves didn’t set foot in. Vanya would be there because she, being ordinary, was the only member of the family allowed to practice an instrument. And the only reason Five was allowed inside was because he had made a long-winded and boring speech about the connection between music and math that no one, not even Dad, paid attention to by the time he asked if he could spend his free time in there. But without Five, the room was… empty. Not literally of course—it would take a day at least to remove all the instruments inside, not including the grand piano—but empty enough that she didn’t want to spend her days in.

Her siblings had already staked claim to other safe parts of the house. Luther and Allison dwelled in the attic, since Dad was far too dignified to use the ladder. Diego was often with Mom in the kitchen and the kitchen was the domain of servants, or so Dad claimed. And Klaus and Ben took the west side library, furthest away from Dad’s office, full of vintage fiction for Ben with tall, easily-opened windows for Klaus to waft any smoke out of. The rest of the house was enemy territory—no one knew when Dad could walk down the hall as the old man had perfected the art of walking silently long before they were born.

Of the three options, Vanya preferred the library. Allison always got mad at her when she tried to “invade their space” to the point where Vanya had considered that they went up there specifically to avoid her. It’s not like they had anything to fear from Dad; they were the favorites. Diego was just as possessive of his space with Mom, though knew better to vocalize it. If he did, Mom would scold him and Two would rather die than have Mom be disappointed in him. But Klaus and Ben were… nice. Nicer, at least, than Allison and Luther and Diego, since they actually bothered to talk to her and didn’t fling insults the moment she reminded them of her presence. If anything, they were better than before Five disappeared.

The only perk of being invisible in her own home, she supposed, was being able to eavesdrop without being noticed. So if she so happened to overhear Klaus telling the others, with only Ben actually listening, that they need to be kind to her, that Five’s disappearance really messed her up and they need to support her… Well, it warmed her heart that at least two of her siblings were looking after her.

And it was nice to look after them too. They were her brothers after all, the worst treated by their father other than her. So she snuck hot chocolate and cookies into the library for them, and hugged Ben whenever he looked like he needed one—apparently, the Horror liked it when Ben was touched. Who knew eldritch beings could get touch-starved?—and read aloud to Klaus whenever he started looking too fidgety. It was warm, their little hideaway, and the only thing that could make it better would be if Five was there with her.

“What do you think he’s doing right now?” The words slipped out unintentionally after her eyes tried to read the same sentence for the fourth time. Her brothers looked at her curiously, Ben rereading _Robinson Crusoe_ and Klaus smoking by the window. “Five, I mean.”

“He’s probably trying to come home,” Ben said, trying to be reassuring but only making the pit in her stomach grow. “You know how he is; Five’s never given up on something he’s started. He’ll come home, at least long enough to rub it in Dad’s face that he managed to time travel.”

“But what if he won’t? Five’s always wanted to leave…” Her voice hitched. “If he’s happy there, then why would he ever come back—”

_I promise you, Vanya, the moment I master time travel—we’re out of here. We’ll go forward in time, to after the old man’s dead, or before he was ever born, and live out our lives together away from him. He’ll never be able to control us again—_

“—SPACE PIRATES!”

Vanya jumped out of the memory. Klaus had stabbed out his cigarette onto the mahogany windowsill and now stared at her with wild eyes. “What?”

“What if…” He paused for dramatic effect. “He’s fighting space pirates.”

“We got that part. Explain,” Ben said.

“Okay, so picture Five. Now picture a bunch of space pirates. And… they’re fighting.”

Ben groaned. “If you’re not going to provide any helpful information, don’t—”

Her giggle interrupted him. She could see it now in her head. “He’d be so annoyed…” He had come all the way to the future, all the way to _space_ , only to encounter pirates!? “They’d be trying to fight him with… I don’t know, space swords or something while he teleports behind them and knocks them out, sighing and going ‘I don’t have time for this’ and criticizing their aesthetic…”

“SEE!” Klaus gestured to her. “You get it! He’d defeat all the pirates but the big boss, who wants him to fight him mano-e-mano—”

“—Because all big bosses want to fight like that,” Vanya added.

“It’s just what big bosses do,” he agreed. “And there’s all this build up for this huge fight, all kinds of tension when Five just says ‘This is stupid’ and shoots him in the face.”

Vanya broke down in giggles at the thought.

Ben, who finally seemed to understand the course of the conversation, tacked on, “And then he finds the space princess the space pirates were keeping hostage. ‘Why does space have a monarchy? It’s completely illogical,’” he said in his best approximation of Five’s voice.

“What? Why is there a space princess?” she protested while laughing.

“Because, dear sister mine, there is _always_ a space princess,” Klaus answered. “She tries to kiss him for saving her life, but he teleports away and she falls on her face!”

Ben joined her for a new bout of laughter. She swayed, light-headed; when was the last time she laughed so hard? It had… to be from before Five left, sure, but even before that…

Had she taken her medication today?

Did it matter?

Three knocks on the door and Mom poked her head inside. Klaus lunged to clean up the remains of the cigarette while she smiled. “It’s almost time for dinner, you three. Get washed up and to the table so we can eat on time.”

They scrambled to get the room back in sorts (while their father going into their particular library was low, the chance was never zero. At least Mom wouldn’t snitch on them) and together they went to dinner, where Vanya definitely remembered to take her medication on time.

That night, as she was preparing for bed, Vanya couldn’t get the image out of her head, though it no longer made her laugh. What could Five be doing in the future? Klaus had belted out ‘space pirates’ in a possibly-high fit of mania, but what was the future really like? Did he meet their older selves or go straight past them into centuries beyond? Was he having fun at least? She hoped he was having fun.

She hoped he’d come back soon. 

But even as she got into bed, the theories wouldn’t leave her. She wished she had some way to contact him. A phone or a letter. At this point, she’d even take a message in a… bottle…

She sat up in bed. Carefully, so as not to alert Mom that she was still up, Vanya left bed to her little package of school supplies. Inside, at the very bottom, lay an unused notebook.

Grabbing it along with a pencil, she scurried over to the window, where the almost full moon cast enough light for her to write by. If she wanted to send him a message, then she would; it would just have to have some other stuff attached…

With that, she brought down her pencil and began to write…


	2. Chapter 2

Reginald Hargreaves knew he was not a good father.

He wasn’t made for it. Just as some men were not made to be smart or successful, he was not made to coddle and nurture. In fact, if it weren’t for his considerable intellect, such words would not be included in his vocabulary.

But this did not mean he did not care for the members of the Umbrella Academy. Though perhaps, care was a too strong a word for what he felt. Valued was a tad more accurate. They were things after all, things he bought in order to save the world. So naturally he wanted to keep his things in a functional condition. So he gave them adequate food and medical attention, allowed for an education so they wouldn’t be totally inept at navigating the outside world (while still keeping them uniformed enough to take advantage of their naiveté). He tolerated their little quirks the best he could—One and Three’s dalliances, Four’s drugs, Seven—and ignored the parts he could, all the while trying to stamp out anything that would harm the Academy as a whole.

But like all men, he had slivers of kindness. He rewarded good behavior through objects, mostly found aimed towards One or Three. He allowed Two to cling to Grace’s skirt far past the age where he should be independent. Four and Six’s co-dependency was allowed, as was Five and Seven’s.

Seven. She, perhaps, was the greatest symbol of his kindness. He couldn’t get rid of her, since she was ~~a child~~ dangerous. A ticking time-bomb ~~staring up at him with tearing eyes~~ who, if he didn’t make sure she took her medicine, could ~~join her siblings~~ destroy the world. So, he kept her in house, where he could keep an eye on her. And if she wanted anything, he’d try to get it for her. ~~His guilt wouldn’t allow for it otherwise~~. He allowed her the violin, despite being a mediocre player. He allowed less strenuous classes of anything she wanted to know, instead of the heavily structured ones of her siblings. Of course, he still had to make sure her powers had no chance to awaken, so periodically reminded her of her normalness and encouraged the other children to do the same. If only to keep her subdued enough to control.

But in the few months since Five’s disappearance, Reginald couldn’t help but notice her deepening decline. Her emotionless state ~~that he caused~~ seemed to only get worse, with Seven often staring off into space for minutes at a time. Violin music only filled the air during her allotted practice hour, no longer going on for hours on end. Pogo told him how he often saw her writing, almost frantically, in one of her notebooks used for school.

Was she trying to reverse engineer Five’s time travel? Foolish girl. Even if she had the ability to travel through time, she certainly didn’t have the intellectual capabilities to calculate such a feat.

As it turned out, he only had to wait a few days later to discover what she’d been writing, as Pogo delievered it on his desk as he was filling out paper work. Reginald didn’t even look up. “Well? What is it?”

“A novel.”

That caused him to pause. Number Seven, writing a novel? Well, it was not what he’d been expecting. “And?”

“She asked me to read it. It’s quite good.”

“And this involves me how?”

“Vanya wants to publish it. Under the Hargreaves name.”

He looked at Pogo. Regretfully, even after all these years, he still couldn’t fully understand the expressions on his companion’s face. “And why on Earth would I allow that?” he barked.

Pogo shuffled and Reginald had the passing question of why Number Seven wasn’t here to explain herself. Had she sent Pogo in her place? “She says its to make it easier for Master Five to find.” That was not what he expected. The realization must have been clear on his face because Pogo continued, “Miss Vanya believes that Master Five did indeed make it to the future and would likely look for information regarding ourselves. In her words, the book is encouragement for him to come home and says she will continue writing novels until he has done so.”

“Encouragement…” It was true he wanted Number Five home; his disappearance has already affected the capabilities of the Umbrella Academy as a unit and his return would not only allow operations to continue smoothly, but would also provide a decent amount of publicity. Still, Reginald didn’t think it was encouragement that Number Five needed. If the boy wanted to come back, he either would have done so already or was stuck in whatever future existed.

Still… “Is it any good?”

“I believe so. It’s a children’s novel and appears to be the first in a series. It does need an editor though and a revision or two, but otherwise I can easily see it making money.”

Reginald pondered the situation. Number Seven so rarely asked for things outright like this, a side-effect of the Rumor on her. If she felt this strongly about getting Five to return, then it was best to get it out of her system before it builds up. “Hire an editor then; the best one you can find. An agent too. If this book is going out under the Hargreaves name, then it’s going to be presentable, do you understand?”

Pogo nodded. “Yes sir.”

He turned to leave, but Reginald spoke up again. “And Pogo, make sure you arrange a bank account for Number Seven’s royalty checks to go into.” Pogo looked shocked. None of the other children had their own bank accounts, merely a joint one where half the money made from Umbrella Academy merchandise and appearances was kept. Reginald planned to dole it out in accordance to how much they did for the Academy once each child turned 18. “And add an economic class to her course schedule. If on the off chance that her books do end up making money, I want her to know how to use it.”

“Of course, sir.”

Reginald Hargreaves was not a good father. He knew this. But on rare occasion, he could be a good human being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time writing Reginald. He’s such an unsympathetic character, but he did have a few moments where he could have been mistaken for a good father. Still, I tried to keep his worse qualities while also making it clear that he kind of cares for Vanya.


	3. Chapter 3

Ben expected a lot from his siblings. Not expectation-wise, but in terms of behavior. Klaus, for instance, was always some variation of intoxicated. Diego overcompensated, especially when Luther was in the picture. Allison showed off. Vanya tried to wilt into the background to the point where only he or Klaus could bring her out. As much as he loved them, they were predictable which, perhaps, was another reason why he loved them. The only thing he really hated were surprises. Loud, sudden surprises, of the particular variety that put his siblings in danger.

Which was why he was not amused when Allison, for reasons beyond comprehension, returned from an interview pissed and immediately burst into their library to yell at Vanya.

Luther, he could understand getting mad at. Diego, Klaus, Dad, hell even himself! But Vanya? Vanya, who’s eyes watered the moment someone even looked at her funny? Vanya, who was currently leaning as far back in her armchair as she could to get away from Allison, a look of pure fear on her face?

Absolutely not.

Ben rose from the couch and got in between the two as Klaus came forward to wrap his arms around Vanya, who seemed to be having trouble breathing. “What the hell is wrong with you!?” Ben snapped, doing his best to cover Vanya’s small form with his lanky body.

“What’s wrong with me!? What’s wrong with her!?” Allison gnashed her teeth, glaring past him at Vanya. Luther and Diego hovered in the doorway, the later clearly looking like he wanted to step in, but Luther held him back, because God forbid he do anything that benefited someone other than Dad or Allison. “I was just embarrassed on _national television_! And it was all _her fault_!”

“What are you even talking about!?”

Allison sneered at him. “Oh? So she hasn’t told you either then?” She seemed strangely happy about that and shot Vanya an angry-smug look. “Well, I guess I’ll tell them. While we’ve been working hard, risking our lives, _saving people_ , our little sister has decided to make herself _famous_.” She spat the word like it was poison, as if she didn’t spend hours prepping her makeup before each interview, like she didn’t follow each article on the Umbrella Academy as religiously as Dad did.

“What.” Ben wasn’t sure if he was questioning what she was saying or her attitude.

She took it as the former. “Apparently, Vanya’s been writing books, with her third to be released later this month. People know about her. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was, to be suddenly asked about your ordinary sister in the middle of an interview and not have any idea what they were talking about!?” She pointed at Vanya. “I had to learn from some no-name reporter that Vanya’s been going behind our backs, exposing herself and endangering the rest of us, just so she can have her fifteen minutes of fame!”

Ben could barely believe what he was hearing. “Are you listening to yourself!? You’re mad because, what? Vanya wrote a book? Are you kidding me!?” Allison reared back at his harsh tone. “Why does this even matter? Are you jealous that you’re no longer the sole girl in the Umbrella Academy?”

“No! She… she _lied_ to us!”

“No, she didn’t. Look,” he turned back around to Vanya, who was crying and shaking in Klaus’ arms. “Vanya, did you publish a book?” She nodded, hunching in on herself. Ben turned back around to Allison. “See? No lying involved! She doesn’t have to tell us everything about her life! If she wanted to keep it a secret, then she can. It’s that simple.”

Luther finally stepped in. Not to stop the argument, of course—why would Ben expect him to act like a good leader now when his usual battle strategy was “everyone do their own thing until people are dead”. Instead, he kept the argument going. “Still, she should have told us. By announcing her presence to the world, she put not only herself, but all of us in danger.” Allison looked smug that Luther was on her side. Vanya’s breathing hitched and Ben felt the Horror lurch inside him.

“’Announced’?” Klaus spat from behind him. “She wrote a book! It’s not like she bought a billboard with her face on it!”

“Also, did you somehow miss the fact that Vanya has never left the house?” They all looked shocked at Ben’s words. “Yeah, remember? She doesn’t leave. So, unless you’re saying that Dad’s security is worthless, then when is someone going to get the chance to attack her?” Ben genuinely couldn’t believe them. This was the first time Vanya had ever done anything for herself, taken initiative, done something that gained her the recognition she deserved, and they act like she’s killed someone. It was ridiculous. “This isn’t a big deal! Why are you so upset about it?”

“Well, if it’s not a big deal, then why didn’t she tell anyone?” Allison snapped. “Were you looking down on us? Did you want to show off that you were a part of the Umbrella Academy even though you’re ordinary? Because you’re not!”

“Shut up, Allison!”

"I-I…” Vanya voice was shaky, heavy with tears. “I wanted to, but… I didn’t, I didn’t know how to bring it up!” Her voice cracked. “And then it was already published and I was working on the next one and you never… you never cared what I did before, so why…” A sob shook her entire body, but Ben had heard enough.

“Leave,” he ordered. Allison and Luther were taken aback, having never seen such level of animosity from him before. Diego seemed to be the only one willing to obey. Ben glared and, beneath his skin, the Horror writhed, pushing up against his shirt. Their eyes widened. “Leave now.”

Allison was frozen in place, so Diego grabbed her by the arm and physically pulled her out of the library. He shot Vanya a concerned look. “Make sure she’s okay,” he mumbled to Ben.

“I will.”

With that, Diego pulled her away, leaving only Luther, who was trying to regain some of his supposed leader power or whatever, but Ben’s stomach growled, which only happened when the Horror was about to emerge and he left too. Ben sighed and turned back to Vanya, who shook as she cried.

“Hey,” Ben whispered, kneeling down next to her chair and taking her hand. “Hey, it’s okay, they’re gone now. They’re gone and they’re not going to yell at you again.” At least, a darker part of him growled, they better not.

Vanya shook her head, barely able to speak. “D-Don’t… hate m-me… ple-please…”

“No, no, Seven, shh…” Klaus rubbed her back as he spoke. “No one hates you, I promise. It’s going to be alright…”

“But, A-Allison…”

“Allison is just being mean right now,” he cooed back, holding her close. “She’s angry and she’s scared you’re going to get hurt, but she could never hate you.” Ben wasn’t too sure of that, but if it calmed Vanya down, he’d say the exact same thing.

Her breathing hitched. “M-my pills,” she wheezed out. “I need my—need my pills, _please_.”

“No, Vanya.” Ben grabbed her fluttering hand. In her state, he didn’t trust her not to choke on her pills—they were big, nasty-looking things that made his throat sore whenever he saw them. “You already took your dosage for today, remember?”

“A-As needed…” She let out a high keen that seemed to shake the glass. “Two, two pills… as needed…”

Ben looked at Klaus. That really didn’t sound right—couldn’t you overdose on anxiety pills?—and from the look on Klaus’ face, he was thinking the same. “Okay, Van, okay,” Klaus relented, to Ben’s surprise, pulling her pill bottle out of her blazer pocket. “Just one though, okay? Can you handle it with just one?”

She nodded franticly and Klaus popped a pill into her hand. Vanya immediately dry-swallowed it, her throat bobbing, and sighed in relief. Klaus lips pursed. “That’s… better…” she sniffled, still clearly upset, but relaxed now.

“That’s good.” Ben sat on the floor next to her chair, so as not to loom over her like Dad or Luther tended to do. “So, you’ve been writing books?”

She curled in on herself. “Yeah…”

“That’s good.” She looked shocked. “You haven’t been putting as much effort into your violin practice recently, so I was worried you were depressed or something. I’m glad that you’re really just fulfilling a passion.”

“Yeah, sis!” Klaus made her scoot over so he could share her chair and wrapped his arms around her. “You could be sneaking out of the house with me! Far worse than writing words.”

She smiled, her eyes drooping, but the expression was quickly whisked away as the pill’s effects started to kick in. “I really did want to tell you,” she whispered, not meeting their gaze. “But I… I’ve never been good at anything before. And people really liked my first novel—more than I ever expected. I just… wanted to keep it to myself for a while.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Klaus declared. “You can do whatever you want; we don’t need any explanations. We’ll just support you, 100%.”

An awed expression fell upon her face. She looked like she never heard anything like that before which, Ben suddenly realized, was a very likely possibility. Her eyes teared up, but they didn’t fall. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sis.”

“So, what’s it about?” Ben asked. “Your book, I mean. I-If you’re comfortable telling us, that is.”

A ghost of a smile brightened her eyes. “Space pirates.”

Klaus gasped loudly and overdramatic. “ _No._ ”

“It was a good idea.”

“ _No!_ ”

She giggled—finally—and Ben knew she’d be alright.

Or at least, she would be for as long as it took for he and Klaus to figure out why their old man was making her overdose on anxiety medication, because even he knew that you weren’t supposed to take Xanax “as needed.”


	4. Chapter 4

He didn’t find Vanya’s body.

For a while, that was the only thing keeping him going. Five found Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus. Even Ben, though he didn’t find his body so much as he found the remains of a gold—or what used to be gold—statue in the Academy’s yard. But Vanya was nowhere to be found. Foolishly, he thought she had managed to survive; there had been no way their siblings had let her fight with them, not with how they treated her. And they did fight. They had to have, with Luther clutching that eye, with them being so close to the epicenter of the blast. But Vanya wasn’t there, so she might have been alive.

That was before Five had seen the rest of the corpses. They cluttered the streets, man, woman, and child, faces twisted in grimaces of confusion and fear before rot took ahold of them and their features turned to decaying mush. Even if, miraculously, Vanya had hidden inside a bomb shelter, he pried enough of those open to know the contents would be nothing but jelly. For just a moment, he had thought he had found Vanya’s body, but in a blink, he realized it was just a mannequin who happened to look like her. Still, he didn’t want to go crazy, so Five packed Delores into his wagon and continued searching.

Summer turned the barren city scape into a scorched hellhole, and then winter came to chill his bones. It was his first winter when he discovered the remains of the city library, only four miles away from the epicenter of the blast, yet a lifetime across the rubble and corpses. Of all the hundreds of books within, less than half survived. Most of the math section was gone due to fallen cement, stalling his efforts to return home. Still, he searched the rest of the library for any chance of his siblings. He’d been gone so long—over ten years for them, only a few months for him. He wanted to know what they did with their lives.

He didn’t expect to see 12-year-old Vanya’s face gazing sadly up at him at the base of what was left of the reference desk.

Five picked it up like he was afraid it would vanish into dust if he mishandled it. The title was still legible: _Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven_ by Vanya Hargreeves. She’d written an autobiography. His lips twitched, the first trace of a smile in months. He bet it pissed everyone off, especially Dad. Spilling the family secrets. He turns the book over to be assaulted by another picture of Vanya, this time well into her twenties. He studied it. She looked… sad. Vanya always looked sad, but it was different than before. The sadness looked older, a healed wound rather than a fresh scar.

She looked content and Five felt his stomach clench.

He didn’t want to look at the picture anymore. Instead, his eyes found the blurb on the back and his eyes widened.

_“Vanya Hargreeves, 3-time winner of the Newberry Metal and author of New York Times Best Seller **Silent Minds** , is well known for her children’s books and virtuosic skills as a violinist. Less understood is the role she played as one of Reginald Hargreeves' adopted children, standing alongside - but never counted among - the famous Umbrella Academy super kids. This is her story, in her own words.”_

Five gaped at the book. Vanya… he never known what she wanted to do once they left the house. As much as Reginald tried to trap them inside, the moment they turned 18, his Umbrella Academy would scatter. He’d always pictured her as a violinist in an orchestra, them sharing an apartment as he tore through university. She would become the first chair violinist, while he… a professor at a university, maybe, or a physicist, it didn’t really matter to him.

But she was an author? A successful one too—he didn’t know what a Newberry Metal was, but even as sheltered as he was, Five knew being a New York Times Best Seller was a big deal. His mouth twisted; he never knew Vanya had a passion for writing.

He started looking for Vanya’s other books. Perhaps it was foolish of him, searching out fiction when he had all the information he wanted literally in the palm of his hand, but it felt… wrong, for some reason. Her autobiography was published a few years before the world ended, meaning most of her books were written a while ago. He wanted to… start at the beginning, so to speak.

Fortunately, there was a list of Vanya’s other books in the back of the autobiography. Most of them were in a series: _Peter Hartwood and the Day He Left for Tomorrow, Peter Hartwood and the Intergalactic Bounty, Peter Hartwood and the Psyche Thief_. There were over a dozen in that series alone. His finger traced over the name. Peter… the name Mom wanted to give him. He rejected it, of course; there was no need for Reginald to play at them being normal children and he refused to answer to it, which was probably why he was never allowed at interviews. But Vanya knew it… and she used it, for her main character. And Hartwood was clearly a stand in for Hargreeves.

Were these books… supposed to be about him?

Five raided the rest of the library, but he only found some of the books Vanya had written. Most of the children’s section was gone, whipped out under the rubble, but Five was able to find her the one mentioned on the book blurb, _Silent Minds._ The newspaper department in this library was also shredded, so he grabbed what he could to insulate his clothes, found an intact map, and started his trudge to the next library, over 20 miles away.

To pass the time, Five started reading _Silent Minds_ aloud to Delores. It was about a world where everyone had powers except for the main character, Maria Fowler. Five had to put the book down once he realized that, his brow creased. It was so… _like her_ to transmute her pain like this. It was the same as when she’d practice the violin for hours after Reginald or Allison or one of the others insulted her.

But the story was more than her pain. Vanya wrote about how Maria Fowler managed to fake a power, telepathy, using deductive reasoning and the help from a hacker/technopath friend. Together, they solved minor crimes—insider trading, scams, nothing dangerous—until Maria was forced to accept a case where a child’s life was at stake.

It was intriguing, and Five read the book every time he wasn’t traveling or scrounging for food. He could see bits of her in the writing—the hacker friend seemed to be based on Klaus, while the villain held elements of Allison of all people. It _felt_ like her, like he was listening to her talk. Usually he was the one talking—Vanya was the best listener when he was working through one of his theories, always listening even though she rarely understood.

He could almost picture it: sitting in their music room again, Vanya’s violin limp in her hands as she told her story, Five sitting on the piano bench watching her talk for longer than he’d ever seen.

He wanted that.

On the inside of the book, the dedication said, “ _For my brother; I miss you every day.”_

Five found the rest of her novels in the next library, having held together better than the one before, and he read them over the course of the next few months. He should have been focusing on getting back, but Vanya’s books kept drawing him back in. The Peter Hartwood series was directly about him and what “adventures” he could be going on in the future. Her first book— _Peter Hartwood and the Day He Left for Tomorrow_ —had an interview in the back. Vanya said,

_“Ultimately, these books are for my missing brother. All of them are. He… ran away when we were only twelve, and to this day, I still have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. I was devastated, since we were really close. Then, one day when I was really sad, one of my other brothers, Klaus, made up some explanation about how he wasn’t coming home because he was too busy fighting space pirates. It was such a ridiculous idea that I ended up laughing harder than I had in weeks._

_“Later that night, I thought of something: what if the reason he wasn’t coming home was because he thought we didn’t miss him? And that’s the reason behind these books: because I miss him. I want him to come home. And even if he doesn’t want to, even if he can’t, I want him to know how much I care about him.”_

And so more dedication pages went a similar way. There were messages like “I hope you come home soon” and “Everyone’s waiting for you”, but there were also ones for their other siblings underneath, like, “Klaus, thank you for the idea” and “Ben, I hope this is more suited to your tastes than my ‘little kid books’” and even “Diego, thanks for standing up for me.” She didn’t reference Five by name until the books released after her autobiography; something Reginald forced her to agree to? So no one would know she was from the Academy?

The Peter Hartwood series laid unfinished. She died before she could.

A full month after discovering Vanya’s novels, there was only the autobiography left.

Vanya gave a scathing summary of the Umbrella Academy…

_For some reason, the world collectively decided that child soldiers were alright so long as they had superpowers and their handler was a rich old man…_

Of their siblings…

_Number One pretended to be a leader. I say pretended because, unfortunately, he was always so firmly under Reginald’s thumb that he never developed true leadership skills…_

_Looking back, it was clear that Reginald wanted Number Two to develop an inferiority complex. If he always believed he was inferior to the “Golden Children,” then his mind would be too preoccupied with a rivalry to rebel…_

_Number Three was always thirsty for attention, and willing to rumor whoever she needed in order to get it…_

_Number Four’s decline into addiction began as young as 10. Cigarette burns on polished wood became a common sight in our house…_

_He left when he was 12, a short pillar of arrogance…_

_The Horror often affected Number Six more than he let us know. His temper is terrifying, practically transforming him into the monster in his stomach…_

And of herself.

_Reginald would use me as a comparison, sometimes. Like “You have it bad, true, but be grateful. At least you’re not Number Seven. At least you’re not ordinary.”_

But less than a sentence later, she would forgive them of their faults…

_…Not that I can blame Luther. Reginald put the greatest amount of pressure on him than on anyone else in the house. I’ve always admired his ability to, if you’ll excuse the pun, stay strong._

_…Because to tell the truth, Diego was always the rebel of the family. Without him on Reginald’s side, his precious “Golden Children” would be outnumbered. He had to put Diego down, otherwise he’d grow too strong._

_…But I can’t blame Allison for her behavior. You can’t exactly say “no” to someone who can change your mind in an instant. I suspect that’s why Reginald let her behave the way she did; it made her easy to control._

…And praising their virtues.

_…Of course, I say this despite having been addicted to heavy-duty anxiety medication since I was 4. Klaus was actually the one to realize I was addicted to medicine I didn’t need. Without him, I would probably be dead._

_…biting to get some sort of freedom. We used to discuss leaving in our music room, with Five declaring that he’d take me to the future where Reginald is dead or the past before he was born, and we would be able to live free. It was my favorite dream._

_…but you only ever saw it when he was defending me or Klaus. I believe to this day that the Horror was one of the only things our father truly feared and the Horror was the only reason the three of us left that house intact._

It was all her feelings, those he knew and those he didn’t, spread out for the world to see. Her life.

That he wasn’t a part of.

The moment the acknowledgements were done, Five pressed the book to his chest and swore, “I’ll stop this. I’ll stop the apocalypse and come home, Vanya. I promise.”

Only Delores was around to hear him.


	5. Chapter 5

Reginald Hargreeves died two days ago and Vanya was struggling to keep Klaus from downing an entire bottle of tequila in celebration.

“Oh, come on, Van!” Klaus reached for the bottle as Vanya desperately tried to hold it out of his reach. As he was over a foot taller than her, he could have grabbed it easy, but he seemed to enjoy their game of cat and mouse. Their struggles knocked him into her violin case, waiting by the window for either the orchestra—who allowed her a week of bereavement leave—or her classes—which she canceled the moment she heard the news. “You can’t expect me not to be happy about it!”

She understood better than most; in a house that broke every child that lived there ( ~~except one~~ ), Klaus had it worst. If there was anyone who should be happy about Reginald’s death, it was him. But still… “No, Klaus. The funeral’s today and I’m already going to have a hard time keeping my temper as it is. What do you think would happen if Luther or Allison started lecturing you about day-drinking?” She darted away, evading grasping hands. “Do you want me to blow up at them?”

Quite literally. Even after years of being off her medication, Vanya could still barely believe she had a power. That her father had suppressed it for… years.

It had been Ben’s idea to stop taking her medicine—apparently, he noticed something was off about her dosage back when they were kids, but couldn’t do much about it since Mom would force her to take piles in front of her. The moment they all moved out at 18, Ben told her everything he was able to find on the drug. It wasn’t good; instead of anti-anxiety medication, she had been taking strong anti-depressants, the kind that no sane doctor would feed a four-year-old child.

But if Ben got her to stop, it was Klaus who helped her survive it. The first few days on a half-dose were fine until everything seemed to get louder and a sudden crying spell shattered a pipe in their bathroom. If it wasn’t for Klaus and Ben, she probably would have done something stupid, like go cold-turkey and blow up half the city.

Instead, he started with her taking ever-decreasing amounts of her meds. It started with one and a half pills a day, then one, then half of one, then half of one every other day. It was difficult—every day a new symptom, every night a new reason to flip her lid—but they got through it together.

And she was there for Klaus when he wanted to quit too. The only time he lapsed under her care was when Ben died.

One would think that, being a superhero, he would have died in some superb battle of good vs evil, but in reality, it was just a car. A car being driven by a drunk driver, but a car none the less. Ben’s funeral, four years after moving out to their apartment, was the last time she’d seen any of her siblings other than Klaus.

And Ben’s ghost, once he turned up three days after his death.

Speaking of who, Ben stuck his head through the front door. “Vanya! The taxi here!” Back when Ben was alive, he was the one who drove, since Vanya was a living bomb while annoyed and Klaus couldn’t tell the living from the dead at a distance, but now they were stuck to using taxis all the time.

Ben’s distraction was just what Vanya needed to dart into her bedroom and lock the bottle in the bathroom. She smiled at a pouting Klaus. “Well, come on now. We don’t want to be late. And make Ben invisible again; I don’t want to give Mrs. Cole another heart attack.” Klaus lazily saluted and Ben vanished from sight, leaving them free to make the journey to the taxi ghost-free. Klaus leaned on her as she walked—to make sure she was real, he had explained one night after a few too many glasses of wine—and she allowed it, used to his lanky form draping over her. She didn’t have the heart to make him walk by himself, not when they supported each other.

Back when Five first disappeared, she never imagined having anything close to a happy life. But she had her books. She had Klaus and Ben. And that… well, she wouldn’t call it perfect, but it was enough.

Their taxi arrived at the mansion a quarter past one. Vanya locked arms with her brother so he wouldn’t fall, his sense of balance destroyed years ago. They both refused to dress up, at least by normal funeral standards; Vanya wore her nicer flannel and Klaus was in his beaded skirt and had applied a new coat of eyeliner over yesterday’s, so if their siblings had an issue with it, that’s their problem.

Arriving, it was less of a homecoming and more of a verbal minefield. Sure, Allison seemed happy to see them, but she was a famed actress now and had to have some degree of skill, Rumor or no. She very easily could be faking. Diego wasn’t happy, of course—he’d sent several angry voicemails yelling at her after publishing her autobiography, saying that she “shouldn’t have aired the family’s dirty laundry.” She couldn’t blame him for being mad… still hurt, though. And Luther, well… he always seemed so awkward around her, like he was afraid just talking to her would snap her in half. At least that was unchanged, though his attitude towards Klaus definitely needed fixing. If she heard one more reference towards his past as an addict, she would shake this house down.

At least Mom seemed happy. Though, when did she not?

Before arriving, Klaus made her promise not to mention Ben and Vanya was already missing her spectral brother. It was a bit petty of Klaus, but as their time in the Academy increased, she started to understand his view more and more. The Academy considered Klaus useless to them except on rare occasions. They’d probably lecture him, asking why he never came forward with the power before, and Klaus was still really sensitive at times, even if he didn’t show it.

The remaining five had a family meeting about Reginald’s funeral. Some comments were not appreciated—“No, Klaus, flushing Dad down the toilet would just ruin the pipes and I don’t want to call a plumber here unless necessary.”—until Luther finally ordered they put the ashes under the tree in the courtyard.

The one that no one but Luther knew their father enjoyed sitting under.

So, there they were, standing out in the middle of the rain and Luther poured Dad’s ashes out onto the mud, mere feet away from Ben’s statue. The ashes made a wet thump as it hit the ground, an anticlimactic end to the world’s worst father. Klaus giggled to himself as Luther stared awkwardly at the former corpse. “I thought… if there had been some wind…”

Vanya rolled her eyes and focused on the sound of the rain, the leaves shaking, the electronic hum of the mansion, the cars on the road nearby, and used her powers to make a small breeze, blowing the ashes across the lawn in a grey stripe, not much better than the pile but the rain quickly soaked into them and made the ash indistinguishable from the ground.

Pogo eyed her nervously; he must have read her book. He must know what it meant for her to be off her medication. Vanya offered a bland smile.

“Would anyone like to say a few words?” Luther prompted and her siblings stayed quiet. Their eyes darted to each other. Allison and Mom stayed silent. Diego and Klaus looked like they wanted to start a fight. Pogo would defend their father to his dying breath and Luther seemed to want to say something, but held himself back.

Good thing Vanya always had a way with words.

“I don’t think Reginald Hargreeves loved us,” Vanya said, stepping forward. Allison and Diego stared at her like they’d never seen her before. And they hadn’t. Not really. “Not as his children. Not as people. If he had, he wouldn’t have made you all go on those missions, even with your powers. That’s child endangerment, full stop.”

Luther stepped towards her, towering. “We were needed—”

“What world needs child murderers?” She countered. “Child soldiers? We condemn countries with them, but it’s alright here because what? Because they have magic powers? Because they’re ‘superheroes?’ Because Reginald Hargreeves says so?

“I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She swallowed. “To watch. I was a ghost in my own home for so long… and I saw a lot of what he did to you all. What he did, his training… some of it was torture. He tortured my siblings, all of you, even… even Five. And all I could do was watch, because I was too _ordinary_ to do anything about it. But I’ve been to therapy now. I know it was not my fault, for not stopping him. That ordinary does not mean bad, that it doesn’t mean there weren’t things I still could do. So, the moment I got out of here, I blew the whistle. If, somehow, more children were born with powers, I would never be able to live with myself if he bought seven more.”

Diego rolled his eyes. “Oh, it’s always about you now, isn’t it…”

“There were moments of kindness,” Vanya said, speaking over him. “But they were far and few between and never evenly distributed among us. More evidence that he loved us not as his children, but as his tools. Tools to stop the apocalypse, tools to gain more money, more fame…” An author sharing the same last name as him, to add more prestige to his precious Academy. “We were his belongings, not his children. In fact, I would go as far as to say that the only good thing he’s done, these past few decades, was to bring us all together as siblings.” Klaus turned his head so the others wouldn’t see his smirk. “So, I hope, wherever his soul ended up, he sees how we flourish without him and chokes on it.”

With her final word, the sky rips open in front of them.

A swirling whirlpool of blue technicolor, the same shade of the ghosts Klaus pulled into reality. It churned above them, sucking in air and debris, casting the dreary courtyard in blue. Vanya glanced at Klaus, who gave her a confused shrug—he wasn’t the cause.

But the only other person who caused this shade of blue was—

The wormhole pulsed, knocking them off their feet. Klaus scrambled into the house as Luther and Diego stood in front of her. “Get behind me!” Luther shouted.

“Yeah, get behind me!” Diego added.

Vanya rolled her eyes. Now was not the time! But the whirlpool crackled with lightening, shuddering and pulsing until it spat out—

A man.

A filthy man, Vanya noted, covered in orange-brown dust and his clothing in rags. He looked like the protagonist of a dystopian novel, a vagabond surviving in a postapocalyptic land. The wormhole sputtered shut behind him, leaving only four siblings to stare in awe at the stranger.

The man patted himself down, checking to see if he was alright. “I’m back?” He murmured, voice hoarse from disuse. He looked at them from under his dirty beanie and matted hair, above the scraggly, grey-streaked beard. “I’m back.” His eyes were a cobalt blue.

Vanya knew those eyes.

Not so strange of a stranger after all.

Vanya stepped in front of Luther and Diego, barely able to believe her eyes. “Five…?” she whispered.

Familiar eyes met her and she could feel him drinking in her features. His feet made an aborted shuffle forward. “Seven?”

“ _Five_.” Vanya rushed forward, throwing herself into his arms. They collided with an _oof_ and, with Five unable to hold her up, they fell to the ground, Five on top of her. Shaking arms wrapped around her.

“You’re alive.” His voice shook, but there were no tears. “You’re alive, you’re—”

“You’re home,” she returned. “You’re finally home, Five—”

“Seven—”

Klaus picked that moment to return and brain Five with a fire extinguisher.

Five rolled off her, groaning and clutching his head, while Klaus pulled her to her feet. He brandished the fire extinguisher menacingly. “Back off, stranger-danger! I know how to use this thing!”

“Klaus!”

Five struggled to his feet, gingerly touching the back of his head to check for a concussion. “Damn it, Klaus. A man comes home from fighting space pirates, and this is how you treat him?”

“Wait—Five!?”

Vanya couldn’t help herself; she laughed as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Five was home.

* * *

Later, when all talk of apocalypses and death was finished, Vanya was back in her apartment, this time with Five taking Ben’s old bedroom. She sat at desk, an old thing that folded out, jotting down notes for her next novel. Klaus was asleep, while Ben was probably around, watching over her. They still hadn’t gotten around to telling Five about the whole “Klaus can manifest Ben” thing, or the “Dad drugged me for most of my life and I actually have powers” thing. They already had too many heavy topics that day to cover.

A door behind her creaked open.

“What are you doing up?” She asked, not looking up.

“You won’t believe how quiet the apocalypse is.” Five looked down at her, clean and wearing some of Ben’s old clothes (he’d happily volunteered them, or so Klaus said). His face was freshly shaven if nicked and covered in Band-Aids—no need to shave during the apocalypse, she supposed. “There’s nothing expect the noise you make yourself and the wind.” He glanced away. “And the cockroaches. It’s so loud here.”

She could understand. The music of the night swelled in her ears—the electricity in the walls, Klaus breathing in the other room, the wind, the traffic, a distant car alarm. The swell that kept her awake more often than not. Her only escape ear plugs or sleeping pills. She offered both.

Five shook his head. “No. Someone might break in.”

“No one will break in.”

“You don’t lock your windows, Vanya.”

“We’re on the fourth floor.”

“And rapists can climb.”

She rolled her eyes, returning to her outline. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? We could go out to get some coffee?”

“No. I just…” He sighed. “You never finished it.”

“Finished…?”

“The series, the Peter Hartwood one. The one you said was to encourage me.” His voice was quiet. “You won’t get the chance to finish it.”

“Yes, I will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for you.” She shot him a smile from over her shoulder. “The last book… it was always going to be about what really happened to you.” Some fans had accused her of milking the series—something that her agent very much encouraged to make more money—but in every interview she had, she made it clear.

The last book was always going to be about him. Fictionalized, of course, with an actual plot thrown in there, but what happened none the less

He grimaced. “It’s not going to be a very happy story.”

“I don’t know… I think it ended pretty happy.” She held up the paper she was outlining on. “What to look at what I have so far?”

The title for the final book in the series had been decided years ago, before she even decided to start a series, before she thought she was anything more than an ordinary girl crying in a music room.

_Peter Hartwood and the Day He Came Home_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus:  
> “I’m sorry, but does this say ‘time-traveling doom’s day cult’?”  
> “It’s… an idea.”  
> “I’m an assassin for the time-traveling doom’s day cult?”  
> “There are other ideas.”  
> ***  
> Thank you all for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Red Typewriter Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626079) by [Penstills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penstills/pseuds/Penstills)




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